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Perdido Street St...
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by China Miéville (Goodreads Author)
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"It's very different and odd, and I could tell I was not in the right mindset for this book. Will come back to try again" — Mar 03, 2021 04:53AM

 
The Secret History
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Sophia LeRoux
“My body is a work of art, I told myself. The scars, the loose skin, the slight bulges where there once were none—they were like battle wounds. Motherhood, divorce, and everything in between shaped me, molded me. I made myself see the beauty in it.”
― Sophia LeRoux, Ashes of the Fae :

Maggie Stiefvater
“I know when I'm awake and when I'm asleep," Ronan Lynch said.
Adam Parrish, curled over himself in a pair of battered, greasy coveralls, asked, "Do you?"
"Maybe I dreamt you," he said.
"Thanks for the straight teeth, then," Adam replied.”
― Maggie Stiefvater, Blue Lily, Lily Blue

Maggie Stiefvater
“Adam Parrish was lonesome.
There is no good word for the opposite of lonesome. One might be tempted to suggest togetherness or contentment, but the fact that these two other words bear definitions unrelated to each other perfectly displays why lonesome cannot be properly mirrored. It does not mean solitude, nor alone, nor lonely, although lonesome can contain all of those words in itself.
Lonesome means a state of being apart. Of being other. Alone-some.
Adam was not always alone, but he was always lonesome. Even in a group, he was slowly perfecting the skill of holding himself separate. It was easier than one might expect; the others allowed him to do it. He knew he was different since aligning himself more tightly with the ley line this summer. He was himself, but more powerful. Himself, but less human.
If he were them, he would silently watch him draw away, too.
It was better this way. He had not fought with anyone for so long. He had not been angry for weeks.”
― Maggie Stiefvater, Blue Lily, Lily Blue

Maggie Stiefvater
“The thing was, Ronan knew what a face looked like, just before it was about to break. He'd seen it in the mirror often enough. Adam had fracture lines all over him.”
― Maggie Stiefvater, The Dream Thieves

Patricia A. McKillip
“Winds shook me apart piecemeal, flung a bone here, a bone there. My eyes became snow, my hair turned to ice; I heard it chime against my shoulders like wind-blown glass. If I spoke, words would fall from me like snow, pour out of me like black wind.”
― Patricia A. McKillip, Winter Rose

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